11. Contact

 When Manu had established the camp to his liking he decided it was time for fishing. He tucked his tomahawk in his belt (for the construction of a fish-trap) and suggested a scouting party to Halley. Unfortunately, Halley had slipped into a mild depression. The discovery of his mendacious compass, and the absence of a goldfield had a deleterious effect on the young man. Rather like a child who wakes on Christmas morning to find nothing under the tree, he threw a tantrum and took to his bed.

Because the large bed occupied the entire interior of the small tent Manu was forced to stand outside and address the feet of the sulking Halley.

The Karundi took this to be some kind of ceremony. They had taken their usual seats in the audience and returned to the game of trying to figure out the dynamics of the strange group. At first they thought it might be a family group with Manu as the father, Halley the mother and the other three, the children. This made no sense of course since the woman did no work and the man made the camp, did the cooking and looked after the kids.

Some said it might be the time of her menses and the little calico tent with its huge wooden platform must be some kind of special women’s business. This held no water because two of the younger warriors who'd tracked Halley to his morning evacuation reported the existence of a tiny pink appendage reminiscent of a penis.

Someone floated the idea that they may be a scouting party making a track for others to follow but this made no sense either. It also raised the question of how they’d managed to make it this far without a guide. Every square inch of the entire continent came under the authority of traditional owners. Every local group was a part of a huge network of independent, interlocked groups like the mesh on a fishing net. Each of them had strict and binding diplomatic protocols with their neighbours. To negotiate your way through any given area you needed the services of a string of local ambassadors. There was no one who looked vaguely local with this mob – they were four pinks and a brown.

It was certain they had no dreaming with the possible exception of the decorated one who they assumed must’ve been through some extreme initiation.

They decided to make contact.

Though they numbered about fifty they sent only five. Two elders and three young warriors armed with clubs and spears. They approached the camp directly and fearlessly. The fearlessness was largely an act - they’d never seen a firearm but they’d heard of them. Now, as their distance from the camp dwindled, they were made even more tense by the realization that nobody had yet seen them. The senior man decided to issue a call in the way they used when entering an unknown camp. He yackai’d loud and long. A loose translation might be:

“Hay everybody I’m coming into your camp. Don’t worry I’m very friendly. That’s why I’m calling out to you.”

Conroy and the Edwards boys shrieked and ran to hide behind Halley’s tent. Manu, who still had his head stuck inside the fly of Halley's tent, leapt vertically like a startled cat and knocked the ridge-pole out of it’s cleat. The front of the tent collapsed and cocooned a hysterical Halley with heavy calico.

Manu, supercharged by a surge of adrenalin, snatched the tomahawk from his belt and performed an impromptu haka. He announced his name and his lineage, mountain and river. He showed his patiti skills with precise, violent swings of the tomahawk. He demonstrated deft footwork with exaggerated raising of his feet. He finished with a flamboyant pukana, bulging his eyes and protruding his tongue in the traditional fierce grimace. A loose translation might be:

“Mess with me and you die.”

The Karundi understood the mime perfectly. They liked it. It confirmed for them that this man might have some dreaming and was the one they should be talking to. A tense silence fell (slightly leavened by the thuds of Halley trying to fight his way out of the tent) as they regarded each other.

It occurred to Manu that he might now choose a more conciliatory stance. He held the tomahawk in front of him with both hands as a gift, danced forward four steps, laid it on the ground and retreated.

The Karundi understood this too. The senior approached and accepted the offering. They knew immediately that the tomahawk was a marvelous thing. Not only was there the wonder of the steel blade but even more significant was the intricate carving on the handle. They saw wind and waves and water in the swirling patterns and, at the base, a crouching gargoyle with bulging eyes, an obvious dreamtime figure.

A smile is a natural law.

When the senior man smiled at Manu the tension went out of everyone’s shoulders and they all started to talk. No information was exchanged but the sound was very comforting.

Having escaped through the back of the tent Halley emerged with the three children behind him.

“I say,” he said, “Do any of you chaps speak English?”

They laughed. From that point on any gesture or statement from Halley moved the Karundi to such extreme degrees of glee that it hurt their ribs. They had to cling on to each other to remain upright. 

When the remaining members of the group made their way to the camp they were stricken with the same debility. One look at Halley made them hoot, point and roll around on the ground in fits.

No useful interaction occurred on that first afternoon except for the discovery of sugar. The senior man who’d made the first introduction noticed the canvas sack covered in a swarm of native bees. When he was given a taste of the brown crystals he thanked Manu for the gift, handed the bag to his youngest wife and sent her home with it. When the afternoon thunder and lightning rolled they took their leave with assurances they’d return tomorrow. 

They'd quite forgotten about the crocodile.

© Ray Lillis 2012